Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

“He’s shown up in my town and I’m doing some background research. I’d like to speak to you on the record.”

“Sure. Why do you care about Luis Martinez?”

“There’s been a death and he’s involved in the case.”

“Who’d he kill this time?”

“This time?” Peter echoed, his voice sounding shocked even at this hour. “Do you know anything about his relationship with the quarterback who died?”

“He was jealous of his buddy Joe. That was his name. Joe even told me one time that he’d been giving Luis money.”

“Money? What for? Cops make okay salaries,” Peter said.

“Not if you like to gamble,” Arnie replied, and guffawed. “Luis likes to place a friendly bet on games, but he’d gotten into a hole with some disreputable people.”

“But I’m sure he had a family to help him out,” Peter persisted.

“For a while. But when he got into a hole and was overextended...even his sister stopped talking to him.”

Arnie continued, “Twenty K. That’s what Luis needed to pay off his debts. Joe, he had that kind of cash. But twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money to a cop.”

His voice turned airy. “Joe was a good kid at heart. He got in with the wrong crowd, that’s all.”

Peter’s eyes rolled at the duplicity. Arnie Hatch had been part of the wrong crowd.

But he was a fount of information. What a jackpot—no pun intended. “What else do you know about Luis?”

“Not much. I told Joe that if he gave his friend any money, he’d never see it again. Joe, he doesn’t care. In fact, he made Luis go to Gamblers Anonymous before giving him any cash. Good kid, Joe.”

Peter’s stomach started to burn. He wasn’t sure if it was all the coffee he’d drank, or if it was the crap that Arnie was trying to feed him about how much he cared for the dead QB.

“Then there were all of those bastards from RMJ.”

“RMJ?” Peter echoed.

“Rocky Mountain Justice,” said Arnie.

Peter wrote down the words as his foot began to tap. Was it the same agency his news director friend had mentioned? “What do you know about RMJ?”

“Bunch of spooks for hire. One of them, Ian something, a Brit. He was helping Joe’s agent. Petra Sloane.” Arnie sighed. “And I’m the one in jail. What a world.”

Arnie seemed to run out of steam and a long silence stretched out from the other end of the call. “If you think of anything else, get in touch,” said Peter, before giving Arnie his number. He then ended the call, his head spinning. He needed some air.

Rising from his desk, he walked through the front office and pulled open the door. Cold air slapped his face, reviving him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Halfway up the block, the sheriff, red-faced and sweating, ran around the corner.

“Sheriff McCloud,” he called out, while lifting a hand and stepping in her way. “I wonder if I could have a word.”

Julia slowed to a stop. Hands on her knees, she panted. “Sure. What do you need?”

“I’m Peter Knowles, editor of the Pleasant Pines Gazette.” He nodded toward the newspaper office. “We met when you first got the job.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I remember.” Standing taller, she wiped her damp face with a sleeve. “What can I do for you?”

He hadn’t expected the same bonhomie he’d enjoyed with the late Carl Haak, but Julia’s demeanor was about as warm as the chilly morning. Removing his phone from his jacket, he opened the voice recorder. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He hit Play. “On the record.”

“Can you make an appointment or something?”

“Really, this will just take a minute. I was wondering if the sheriff’s department had an official statement about the body you took from the park yesterday morning?”

It was all in the eyes, he noted. Julia’s eyes got wide for a fraction of a second before narrowing. “Who said anything about a body?”

“Me,” he said. “I have eyes. I saw the coroner’s van. The body bag. Who was it? What happened?” Peter paused and gave the sheriff a moment of silence to fill. She didn’t. He continued, “I spoke to Deputy Cooper, and he said he’d pass on a message.”

Julia scratched her brow with her thumb. “Oh, did he?”

“Must’ve been busy yesterday. Another tourist, dead.”

“Who said anything about a tourist? Dead or alive.”

Pushing ahead, Peter said, “I spoke to the funeral director yesterday. They weren’t called to collect a body. No local funeral means that no local died.”

Julia almost smiled. “You’re resourceful.”

“I am, actually,” said Peter, then cleared his throat. Cold air seeped through his thin jacket, leaving him chilled. After blowing on his cupped hands, he continued, “I can help, you know. I grew up in Pleasant Pines. I know everyone. They trust me because I always tell them the truth.”

“We’re good right now,” she said, stepping around him. “But thanks.”

And that was it. The new sheriff obviously thought that she was going to shut him out of the story. Well, that was where she was wrong.

He let Julia jog three yards, no more. “Who is Luis Martinez and why is an ex-cop from Denver working on a suspicious death? One so sensitive, your office won’t even release a statement.”

As if pushed from behind, she stumbled forward. Spinning around, she strode toward Peter with her fists clenched at her side. “Who told you about Luis Martinez?”

“Again, I have eyes. He was with you and Doc in the gazebo.” And why had the mere mention of Luis’s name set the sheriff on edge?

“No comment,” she said with a huff.

“Are you aware that the Denver Police Department let him go?”

“No comment.”

“Why would you trust a disgraced cop with a gambling problem, Sheriff?” He held out the phone farther. “And what connection does he have to Pleasant Pines?”

Julia batted the phone from his hand. “I’m done with your freaking questions. You stay out of my investigation, you hear?” She turned on her heel and sprinted away.

Peter’s phone was lying on